


Starburst

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Domestic!Fitzsimmons, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8183069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: Simmons gasped, and had to remind herself to swallow properly before drawing the mysterious box the rest of the way toward herself. Her heart thrummed in anticipation, anxieties all but forgotten. She glanced up at Fitz, but beyond admiration, and a hint of smugness, his expression didn’t give much away. Under his unwavering gaze, she opened the box slowly...Light 4x01 spoilers.





	

For a while, the two of them ate in mutually agreed, ravenous silence. They were both starving, and exhausted from a long day, made even longer by their quest for some time alone. In the end, they’d given up on waiting for the lounge-slash-dining-slash-rec-room to be vacated, and had settled for the kitchen. They’d set up a chef’s table, of sorts, from a foldout card table and a dark red cloth that may or may not have seen the light of day in the last 40 years. They’d even sourced a vase and some candles. In the end, it was romantic enough, for all its haphazardry. 

After all but inhaling a few mouthfuls of spaghetti bolognaise, Simmons sat back in her seat and let out a breath. She took time to take in their little makeshift arrangement, and the blissfulness of having no one in the visible vicinity. She could do with a few less hoots of laughter from the other room, and probably less of a cafeteria-kitchen smell, but all in all, it was not bad. Quite a satisfying sanctuary in this busy life of hers – of theirs – these days, and a reminder that she still had the power to make her life her own, for all she was apparently playing into others’ hands. 

Simmons smiled especially at the chrysanthemums she’d slipped into the vase at the last minute. They’d been grown here on base, bred to live without sunlight. She’d bred them that way, planning to offer them to Fitz on their first date, before everything. It was painfully ironic that they’d finally succeeded while she’d been languishing on Maveth without the sun, but she couldn’t help but be proud of their beauty.

Her eyes dropped then, to the security card she’d propped against the crystal vase, their ostensible motive for having this dinner. She hummed pensively to herself, and heard Fitz pause, and lower his fork back to his bowl. 

“Everything okay?” he checked, watching her with concern. 

Simmons pressed her lips together, unsure whether she was about to bring the mood down, but silence in lieu of lies had done more harm for them than good thus far. 

“Do you think it’s wrong?” she asked him, picking up the orange card and studying it with a frown. “That I’m proud of this? Is it wrong?” 

She met his eyes, and he shook his head. 

“No, of course not,” he assured her. “You worked hard for that. You deserve it.” 

“I just feel like I’m…” she cast her eyes around, unsure of speaking honestly when there was a possibility, albeit slight, of being overheard.

“You’re not betraying anyone by climbing the ladder,” Fitz insisted. “I think its smart. Whatever your reasons for doing it, you wanted this, you worked for it, you should celebrate it.”

Simmons nodded, and felt some of her discomfort settle. Worry and doubt came in waves these days, sometimes barely visible on the horizon and sometimes lapping at her feet, or even threatening to drown her. Sometimes it was hard not to associate these tides with particular things – especially her own failings. But as she studied the card again, replaying Fitz’ words in her head, she recovered her confidence. This was an achievement in itself, and on top of that, it was a sign that her plan was working. She had nothing to be ashamed of. 

“Feeling better?” Fitz checked, reaching for her hand across the table. She let him take it, lowering and eventually letting go of the orange card. Satisfied, Fitz slid his hand from hers and reminded her to eat. 

“Is that your solution to everything?” Simmons teased, though she picked up her fork obligingly.

“Jemma!” Fitz feigned offence. “You should know by now that chocolate icecream is my solution to everything, but _someone_ I know insists on eating ‘real food’ before dessert.” 

Simmons snorted. She knew when she was being mocked – and when she didn’t have a leg to stand on. She was quite content to return to eating, though, since she was hungry and the food was good. And yet, she was soon interrupted again when Fitz put a flat black velvet box, about the size of his palm, on the table, and slid it toward her. 

Simmons gasped, and had to remind herself to swallow properly before drawing the mysterious box the rest of the way toward herself. Her heart thrummed in anticipation, anxieties all but forgotten. She glanced up at Fitz, but beyond admiration, and a hint of smugness, his expression didn’t give much away. Under his unwavering gaze, she opened the box slowly. Inside was a gold pendant in the shape of what appeared to be an explosion or a flare of some kind, dotted with diamonds and richly coloured gems. 

“Fitz!” she gasped. “It’s beautiful!” 

A grin broke out across his face at last, and he beamed back at her as she drew it out of the box and watched it spin in the candlelight, breathless with awe.

“What…is it?” she asked after a moment, finally tearing her eyes away from the pendant and back to his face. 

“It’s a starburst,” he explained. “See, the gold is the dust and gas trails, and the jewels are the stars and planets…” 

Simmons nodded, resting the pendant in her hand, applying his explanations to the symbols. 

“I see it,” she whispered, and lowered it back into its box. She reached across the table with both hands, seeking his, and fixed her eyes on his, giving him her full attention. It was Fitz whose eyes dropped, wandering over the velvet box and the chrysanthemums, not quite prepared to see the full strength of his own softly passionate gaze reflected back at him while he spoke. 

“What we were talking about a few weeks ago…you know, space and everything, and…the singularity…” His eyes traced up her chest and neck and lips and dropped again. “A starburst galaxy has abnormally fast rates of star formation and then it…stabilises…”

Simmons’ eyes narrowed. 

“Is this…” she wondered. “Are you..?” 

Her eyes widened as it began to dawn on her that this was an actual possibility and that she might actually agree – in fact, _might?_ Would. Definitely would. Her answer would be yes. So much so it was just about clawing its way out of her chest. But Fitz seemed oblivious to the pounding of her heart until his eyes trailed over her face again and he baulked.

“What?! No! I’m not – I’m not proposing. Yet. I mean. What?” He spluttered for a while, recovering his footing in time to explain: “I just meant that change doesn’t have to be always moving, we don’t have to keep moving forward…I meant, I like that our life is sort of – normal – ish – I guess, and we can be all…domestic and… You thought I was proposing?! Jeez, Jemma, we’ve only been going out for…” 

“Ever?”

Simmons raised an eyebrow, stopping Fitz in his tracks. It was true, neither of them had ever identified a particular starting date for their relationship. When they met seemed too presumptuous, like they’d been in love forever, which they hadn’t. But their first kiss, or their second? Or Bucharest? That left out too much of what had come before. 

Fitz shook his head.

“This wasn’t supposed to be about me,” he insisted. “This was about you! I know you lost that necklace your parents gave you for graduation on Maveth, and I know you loved it, and I wasn’t trying to replace it or anything I just wanted to give you something, you know, to mark your achievements. Which is why I gave it to you on _your_ congratulations dinner. If I was going to – t- _propose,_ I’d at least have made the ring myself!” 

“At least?”

“Of course! It would have to be perfect. And no greasy old kitchen table, either,” Fitz scoffed. “We’d be at a proper restaurant. Or a beach. Or a nice hotel. Or-“ 

“Okay, I get it,” Simmons conceded graciously, though she was blushing furiously with the flattery of it all. “I’ve insulted your romantic skills. I apologise.” 

She bit back a grin at his indignant expression, and asked if he could help her put the necklace on. He obliged, and by the time he sat back down, Simmons had a devious expression on her face. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” he warned, narrowing his eyes and jabbing his fork at her. She batted her eyelids innocently. 

“I’ve no idea what you mean.” 

She picked up her fork and ate demurely, until a few seconds later, Fitz’ confusion won him over. 

“Wait, so, these ideas, were they about proposing or…” 

Simmons shrugged. 

“Well, it’s obviously my turn now,” she explained, “so yes I suppose they’d have to be about that, wouldn’t they? Although I have some other ideas that might come into play sooner, too…” 

Drawing out her words with an enticing purr, she ran her foot up his ankle and calf. It was all very sensual, until she tickled him instead and his leg jumped, knocking the table and sending the vase toppling over.

Simmons yelped and jumped to her feet, yanking her security card out of the potential mess and wiping it off swiftly. Fitz scrambled to catch the vase before it could fall and righted it, and then picked up the flowers that had fallen out. Chrysanthemums. Fresh. Awestruck, he turned them in his hand, and then looked up at Simmons. 

“Where did these come from?”


End file.
